


Perfect couple

by xxxsuspension



Category: South Park
Genre: Drug Addiction, Multi, Murder, Obsession, Stalker, meth, tweak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxsuspension/pseuds/xxxsuspension
Summary: Watching from a far. His obsession will only get worse if he doesn’t do anything about it. He hates her, she doesn’t even know him. What are the chances that somebody might die?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:  
> -self harm  
> -boney/unhealthily thin  
> -drug abuse  
> -self hate  
> -obsessive behavior  
> 

My Icey fingers tips tapped against the old, rustic, metal bench I had been sitting on. My eyes carefully stalked him through the crowd of people, who all looked the same to me. His beautiful sky blue eyes piercing through me caused my cheeks to become flushed. A grin stretched across my face from ear to ear as he looked at me. My mind had been so focused on the fact the he was looking caught me off guard, he saw me stalking him with my eyes. My head dropped down to my knees while I pretending to pick something off the ground, my face burned red from embarrassment. 

My eyes slowly trailed back upward to check and see if he was looking. I pull myself back up off the ground to face the crowd, I could see the ball darting across the field. The kicker of course was our best player, Token black, Even our best players there looked up to him. It could have been a money thing, or cause he somehow came this far with only one or two years' experience. 

He slowed down to catch his breath as the players on offense tried to intersect the ball, yet they missed each time. The ball shot straight into the goal. It jumped up into the net pushing it back as if the ball were attacking it. Many of the players slowed down after they got a goal, resting their arms on their shoulders. 

The ripple of over five hundred students screeching and yelling at the top of their lungs as if they were all being attacked had caused my head to jerk back up as a let out a squeak. My voice cracks had always been bad, but I've never squeaked. Adding to even more embarrassment; I hung my head in shame as if everyone had heard when most likely no one heard. Well, South Park cows had won yet another soccer game. The only team we have at this high school that’s good anymore. 

The players had congratulated each other with handshakes and high-fives, some even gave hugs. The screaming made my head ache as i scowled at the others surrounding me. 

Even though the painful laughter and joy coming from other students had triggered my head ache and made me even more anxious, nothing could remove my gaze from him. Craig tucker, 17 years old and one of our best players for the South Park cows. He swept his perfect inky black hair behind his ear, the empty holes where his piercings usually remained had made me uncomfortable since I was so used to him being 45% metal at this point. 

His glistening smile made my heart ache as if it would pop out of my chest at any second, and specifically his eyes staring in my direction. Wait? My direction. A smile grew on my face as he waved to me; at least I had thought it was me. 

The loud clicking of heels banging against old metal starting ringing in my head as she rushed down the stairs. Blondie, or should I say, Bebe Stevens. 16 year old head cheerleader of the South Park cows football team. She had originally joined the team for her ex-boyfriend Clyde, but due to him making out with some chick at a party, they broke up. I wish she had stayed with him, they’re better for each other than Craig is for Her. Her blonde curly hair had bounced on her shoulders, barely any stray hairs protruded from her head as if she were some perfect goddess of zero mess, especially in her mental health. She's always been so cheery that I would think it would hurt to even crack a grin from how much she smiles, and don’t even get me started on how white her damn teeth are; I may hate her, but I'd kill to have perfectly white teeth like that. 

She rushed down the stair to meet up with her ‘babe’. She should know the difference between cute and cringy from how much she says 'babe' or 'honey' every goddamn day. 

A scowl grew as I watched her finally reach the end of the stairs and rush through the field, bumping into other players to hug him like it’s their last days. I dream of being her, but only for what she has. She's rich, beautiful, healthy as hell, and has the perfect relationship. 

The way he gripped onto her like he would never let go made me wretch as my eyes along with my head twitched in anger instead of just me for once. The field looked like a slow dance for the soccer layers as almost half of them had met up with their girlfriends, or even boyfriends. 

Two feminine voices behind me had started talking.�“God, all the players have such nice smiles and hair, how do they keep it so perfect throughout all that work?” the brunette said twirling her split end ridden hair between her fingers.�

“Yeah, but I've got eyes for ken and Craig, guess the list those girls made in elementary school was right” the other had said staring back at her friend, laughing at how her photographic memory had helped her remember that stupid list.� 

“Yeah same, but kens so reserved, I'd be surprised if he even dated. And Craig's dating Bebe, wouldn’t want to ruin that. Perfect couple in my opinion” the brunette had replied. 

They both laughed and joked about the relationships and personal lives of the players for minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore. And that sentence, perfect couple? I can't even believe she had the nerve to say that, how could they both be so noisy. Who even are these girls? Whatever, it's not like they are important parts of this school anywa-, my train of thought interrupted, A sharp pain had shot through my upper thigh like a lightning bolt. 

I stopped, realizing what I had done. My eyes dropped down to my thighs fingering the holes in my jeans, fuck. I slid a small piece of fabric up revealing a large red stain spread onto my thigh, but not far up enough to see the wound. I quickly lifted myself off the bench and rushed down the stairs. The clanking of metal mixing with the soles of my shoes alerting some other students' noisy behavior as the girls from before started staring at me. I sped up enough to not look suspicious, but also get out of there as fast as possible. 

The sounds of other students making out and the strong scent of skunk weed filled the air, I feel bad for the janitors or grounds keepers. My head turned from side to side, grasping my surroundings as I dashed through the gravel pathway. 

I slipped through the small space between the gate and overall fence. I sprinted up sidewalk, woods on either side of me had already smelled of either arson or more weed. Students walked next to each other talking about who knows what. All I'm doing is attracting more attention to myself. 

My shaky legs pushed against the ground as I made my way closer to the school. My eyes raced around looking for an entrance. All I could see was the gym entrance and pods, both were locked after seven though. As I continued my way down this side walk, a dim light had finally came into vision as I noticed what it was, the hallways leading to locker rooms and bathroom. 

I made a sharp turn to the right, across from the gym. My hands slammed into the metal bar as the doors banged against the concrete walls. I wandered aimlessly through the halls, the walls seeming like a labyrinth as I run down different ones each time. I never usually go to games like these so I have no idea what this part of the school is like. The clacking of my shoes echoed down the completely empty hall, mainly empty school. 

A flickering light ahead of me had flashed in a certain pattern as if it were flashing to a certain beat. The light was hung right above what I thought had been another plain wall, but As I got closer, I had seen that there was a sign hanging by a few sticky clips, it’s seemed to hold on to the sticky wall hanger for dear life. I squinted at the square piece of splintery wood to try and make out what it said. The sign had read “ bathrooms”, there we go. 

I twist to the left, my sneakers squeaking across the tile floors leaving grass tracks behind. I headed towards the bathroom, I felt the blood running down my thigh at this point, which one had I opened? I darted into the men's restroom as fast as possible. My hand grabbed onto the side of the door way to help launch myself in faster, leaving the small bit of blood that had been lingering on my finger behind. 

The same old grey and white tiled floor had greeted me, still annoying me since the squares are strung out oddly and not in order of grey then white. I passed the old dark blue stalls, graffiti littered them from “ have a good day” to a very detailed drawing of a penis. 

I walked to the very end of the bathroom to where one of the stalls had been, until the senior kids last year ripped it out of the wall and put it inside the principal's office as their 'awesome' senior prank. What had been left of it had now made for a makeshift wall. A smudged mirror had hung there in front of me, tilted to the side as if it would fall any minute. 

I stumble back to the end of the bathroom, swinging myself behind the wall. I unbuckled my jeans and slid them halfway down my thigh. Dried blood stuck to my jeans as I winced at the pulling of my wound. I pulled up my blood stained boxers to reveal my mistake. The mirror reflected a scab on my left leg, roughly the width of my finger. Blood still slowly trickled down my thigh from the dry part being ripped off. 

I stared at my boney legs littered with scars, scrapes, and cuts. Some recent, some almost invisible. Self-harm had become a habit in middle school after I had been asked if I did it by some people that would bully me. I didn’t want this to turn into a five year long habit. 

Tears flooded my eyes, tracing down my cheeks as I stared at myself in the dirty piece of glass hanging in front of me. My hands ran across my thighs, bumps formed tiny mountains across my legs. I could remember every single time and story behind each of them, every story seeming more outrageous and stupid reasons for me to do this to myself. 

• • • 

�A small amount of light had shuddered through my curtains as I gripped my sides, feeling my protruding hip bones as I stared into my mirror from across the room. My legs were shaking as if they were made of jelly. 

I used my last bit of strength in me today to somehow lift me off my bed. I stood up and stared at the atrocious body In the mirror. The mirror warped and contorted like always, questioning why I hadn’t been born with a good mindset and zero issues like Bebe. My eyes flooded with tears as if a dam had broken within my tear ducts. 

The scraggly mess I called my hair stuck out in every which way as the blonde curly knots Intertwined with my fingers. My button up had been pulled at the collar exposing my collarbones. Deep ditches with dark shadows made my collarbones seem to be an open hole in my shoulders. The buttons were In every hole except the ones they were supposed to be in. 

A grin had formed on my face, moving between a smile and a frown. My hand reached out for my nightstand, running my hand over things and almost knocking over the cold coffee I haven’t finished due to my breakdown. 

My fingers caressed the soft yet messy ball of curly hair sprawled out on my nightstand. I latch my fingers into the long and beautifully curly wig and snatched it up. I pull It over my mess of split ends and stared at myself. Some of my natural hair poked out, barely matching with the color of the wig. 

My hand reached out again towards my nightstand, feeling around for my special item. My hand grazed over a grainy cold piece of glass. My hand wrapped around the glass as it dug its way into my finger slightly. I trembled, pulling the glass towards myself, clutching it in my chest. My Fingers wrapped around the bloodstained shard, barely being able to hold onto it as I tremored. 

I clutched it in my palms slowly moving it down towards my thigh. In the blink of an eye the glass had shot for the small amount of flesh and bones, already digging its way into it. .Jerk, My whole body convulses as I pulled the shard across my thigh. The inside of the cut at first had white dots on the inside then started gushing with blood. The warm trickle of the thick red substance running down my thighs and knees made me feel at peace. The addictive feeling had once more, taken over me completely. 

My hand that had been dripping with blood as well had stained my boxers and shirt. The stinging sensation had finally kicked in.� 

• • • 

“God what’s wrong with me” I stuttered, My voice cracking. The corners of my mouth titled upward into a small pity smile. My crooked teeth stood out the most, coffee stained and crooked. My body had looked unhealthy to a point of no return. I felt as if I was in the wrong body, the wrong skin. I was such a healthy guy, I was doing so well; why did I have to do it again. 

The hollow, shameful shell of a man was all I could see in the botched mirror. It seemed as if I was looking through to another world; another person. This isn't me, but every time I try to fix myself, I just relapse or shut everyone and everything out of my head. 

The only sound I could hear was the forced sound of my breathing, shaky, painful breathes of sorrow and fear was all that invaded my lungs. I'm aware I am unable to cry over this, but I didn’t want to anyway. I'm sick of being a crybaby all of a sudden, this whole thing is just dumb of me to be sad over it. Meth? My fault, Anxiety? My fault, Obsession over a guy when he doesn’t know who I am anymore? My fault. 

I could easily fix this: go to rehab again, focus more on colleges and school more, sign up for boxing, and finally be a normal fucking person, but I'm 'unstable' and ' almost impossible to have normal thinking'. Therapists are stupid like that, especially rehab councilors. 

I flick my eyes open and closed attempting to see a new reality for myself, a new me, but all fails as I open my eyes again only to see a half bloody almost pantsless, corroded teenage boy. 

The sounds of pounding tennis shoes and voices of students echoed down the halls, drawing closer to me and the bathroom. Chills run up my spine; I jump to action as the pounding gets louder. I pull up my bloodstained pants, ignoring the pain from the fabric running against my wound as best as I could, dashing towards the door. My shoes squeaked on the slightly wet, now grass stained tile. A lace from one of my shoes catches on the other, causing me to strip towards the side wall. With just the amount of luck, I latch onto the wall saving me from my almost face plant. I flung myself using the wall towards the exit, unable to see behind the door I make a run for freedom. 

My body tenses, my legs pull out from under me, I collapse to the ground falling right on my lower back. The large strong structure knocks me to the floor, its presence was unknown until the last second of dashing towards the exit. I run my hand against my forehead, clenching my eyes closed from seeing who I crashed into. Token? , he was the first to leave the field, and would explain his lanky stature. 

“Jesus, what the fuck” The boy spoke, unleashing pure confusion, and distain in one sentence. 

The harsh monotone voice had filled the air, echoing throughout the bathroom. I had recognized that voice a little too well, my worry preoccupied me with the known fact that it must have been token, even if I knew who he was. 

My eyes slowly panned upward, unclenching them with fear of humiliation from token. My gaze was soon fixated on the man in front of me, I had ran straight into Craig, fucking tucker. I choked, my body tensed up out of fear from the crash. I opened my mouth as if to say something, but only a small burst of air escapes my throat. I sit there, stuttering as I attempt to apologize properly, but my body wouldn’t let me say anything until he stood up and offered to help me up, his expression made him seem angry even though that’s what he looked like most of the time. 

“ oh I-I'm so sorry” I apologized looking up at the giant in front of me. My voice cracking in fear adding to the list of embarrassing Tweek moments that had riddled me since birth. 

He smirked at me. The kind of smirk only someone who was uncomfortable would make, but at least he didn’t frown. He reassured my guess that he had been angry with me, “No it’s alright” he explained, his hand reaching towards me, the boney canvas of his hand had been littered in tiny scrapes and miniature scars. Each nail out of place or shorter than his fingers from biting, classic habits never go away I guess. 

His smile faded as he noticed the blood on my fingers and jeans. He scans me curiously, but with no emotion to show for it. “Are you ok?”, He questioned, a face of concern had started to riddle me, did he care? 

“ oh that," I tried to compile a realistic lie together that he could believe. " well, I had sliced it on the old bleachers” I giggled slightly. Smirking with the corner of my mouth, trying to hide my lie. God I’m stupid. 

“Yeah, happened to me this morning” he replied, tilting his hand to show me a scratch on his index fingers that stretched from his cuticle to a joint. A small smile had formed at the corner of his mouth. 

I push myself off the ground, lifting myself to the giant in front of me, the now formed scab scratching at my jeans. The difference between our height was similar to a ruler, 5"6 and 6"2. His neck stretched down to look at me. A moment of silence between us had roamed as we just stared at each other. 

"What grade are you in? I thought middle schoolers weren't allowed in the school after games," He questioned, actual belief that I was an 8th grader really made him wonder who I was. 

A mix of disgust, anger, and confusion mixed into one emotion on my facial expression, " I am literally in your algebra class; I'm a sophomore, Craig" Trying my best to contain my anger from his comment that I'm low enough for him to not even remember me even after we fought, had anger management class together, knew each other since 2nd grade, and even came over to my house once with Clyde and Token. 

“Oh, sorry, guess I didn’t see you", He explained. "Possible," I respond, almost ready to yell at the top of my lungs. 

"well, why don’t I take you to the nurse, you could easily get Tetanus from that” he asked, raising his thick brow. 

I smiled, putting my anger behind and nodding since that’s the only thing I could manage to get out of me. Unable to contain or control these emotions, I punch the air with excitement behind him as he walks down the hall. For the first time since seventh grade, I had actually talked to Craig instead of “ hey can I borrow a pencil” or” you dropped this”. 

I followed after him as we made our way out of the dimly lit hall. His grass stained jersey with traces of mud hung loosely on him. In black bold lettering, his last name, Tucker, had been put on the shirt with the number '13' . The jersey had been colored neon green, the color pierced through my eyes as if it would give me a head ache any second. Green wasn’t his best color but it definitely wasn’t his worst either. The thing that caught my attention the most was the smudge of lipstick in his neck and a smudge on his arm. The dark red color swatch seemed to taunt me as if bebe was marking her territory out of spite. 

Leaving the dark, nasty smelling room, we left. My eyes came into contact with the small trail of blood on the door and droplets slowly fading into the cracks. I jerk my head around to face him, his beautiful eyes captivate me. I almost lose focus as I get lost in the blue orbs I call eyes. I quickly remember ‘contact’. Damnit tweek don’t be weird. 

“Hey, nice play by the way” I shakily say, Fidgeting with my fingers to create less tension between us even if it might have remained the same. 

His head twist around to face me. A small amount of curiosity forms, more of confusion, but when it comes to him I'm unable to tell. My whole body feels warm and cold at the same time, I feel, happy? I feel some sort of feeling I haven't felt in a while, and I didn’t mind experiencing it again. ”thanks” he replied. 

His response made me uncomfortable; so emotionless and empty sounding, it was if he was sad about his win. we walk side by side without side conversations, losing contact with reality in the empty halls and grey tiles. The clicking of his cleats and the hollow sound of my beat up vans echo around us, adding to the realization on how silent we really were. His hands rested in his pockets as we approached the office. His keys jingled with the swinging of is legs and fingers. 

I slowly slide to the door of the office, wondering what to say that won't make him any more uncomfortable. I stutter words out as he stares over me in front of the door " um, thanks for walking me up," I say with sheer embarrassment. 

"no problem" he replied, his smile of pity for me was infuriating, but lovely to see him smile for me. I reached for the door knob behind me, blissfully unaware of how stupid I looked smiling and trying to open a door behind my back. After fumbling with the door for abut five seconds it finally burst open under my weight pushing against it. He turns back around, but before leaving he says, "bye, see you in class". I see you everywhere but for some reason you never see me. 

I drop down into the seat, the hard back of it slamming it into my spin. My legs swung back and forth in the awkwardly tall chair. The clicking of the nurses pen echoed through the room. The silence of the room had made me wonder if three people were actually three people in the room. 

Sitting across from me had been a tired eyed and messy haired looking Kevin stoley. I only remember this kid from when I played humans vs elves as a kid. He looked more beat up then usual, was he sick? 

My eyes strutted across the room, analyzing any and all objects my brain could collect. I tug at the ends of my frail and mangled hair, strands latching themselves to my fingers. 

The groaning of another student behind me could be heard. I turned to face the anonymous person behind me, grabbing onto the back of my chair. Curiosity took over me as I looked through the blinds. 

My eyes met with the back of one of the soccer players. His hair had been matted down with dirt, turning the messy golden blonde locks into a dirty brown. His back was littered with bruises and tiny scrapes. He pulled the grass stained shirt over his head, caressing his upper back causing him to wince. As he pulled the shirt down all the way, covering him completely, I had realized who I had been staring at. 

My eyes widened, expressing the shock I had experienced. The bruised up kid was none other then Mccormick, Kenny mccormick. 

I had never seen him so messed up, or without a jacket on, and from what I knew, not many have either. If he was on the soccer team, then how did I miss him, especially since he seemed to have taken quite a wipe out. 

“Tweek, are you listening to me?” 

My head twisted around to face her, most likely in trouble for staring at an injured student behind the blinds. The nurses expression had scared me, she looked worried. Was she surprised I was staring at someone? Since she is one of the only one that talks to me in this school, I guess I should at least look at her when she talks instead of staring at Mccormick. 

“ tweek, this needs to stop. I understand that you’ve been having a rough time ever since the fire, but you have to power through this” she reassured. I guess she didn’t notice the problem of me staring, but she has to mention THE problem. 

She has no idea what it’s like to be me. This isn’t some druggy parent issue! This is a ME issue. 

I rolled my eyes. If she had to completely get rid of someone she relied on and change herself to be with to be a better person she barely knew she would be able to say that sentence. 

“ you can’t continue to injure yourself. I understand you may think I’m just saying it cause it’s my job. But, it’ll get infected, and it does a lot more harm then good” 

My eyes sunk down. My teeth started grating against each other, making me cringe. I turned my head slowly toward her. My eyes filled rage. 

“You don’t know me” I snapped. My hand twitching wildly against my thigh as I stared right through her blue, judging eyes. Ripping the nice interior to her sad and judgy soul. She doesn't care, she never cared about me! 

I had no idea where all this anger came from, but I shouldn't be this angry after Craig walking me up here. 

“Kevin, could you please come back later, I can. All your mother to pick you up” she said, still staring at me, but referring to the other kid behind me. The concern resting on her face looked like a great wave of sadness had just hit her, but I knew to goddamnd hell she wasn’t finished with me. 

All the worry on her face sunk down to her knees, she was surprised. I’m sure she was the first person besides my parents to see me lash out, especially for me not normally being this intense or annoyed, unless Blondie comes around. She makes my blood boil. 

“Excuse m-“ she questions 

I stepped in before she could finish her sentence. 

“ I’m done with people thinking they know exactly who I am and what I go through!” I interrupted, yelling at her, fists clenched with fury. 

She seemed distressed, sitting so modestly yet me yelling right at her. Her legs were crossed with her hands perched perfectly in her lap. She payed attention to me even though I practically screamed at her. 

Her eyes dropped down to the floor, pulling them back upwards to stare at me. She attempted to say something but only managed to open her mouth. She unwrapped her hands from her lap, dropping them down to her sides, sighing with intent. 

“Are you having a relapse, tweek?” She questioned. 

My eyes widened with shock. My jaw seemed to drop as well probably making me look confused. Once I had realized what she said it was all over. She crossed the line. 

“Are you kidding me!?” I exploded, practically foaming at the mouth. 

“Out of all the things you could have said, you ask me that! What is so interesting about my personal life to you! Do you find it interesting to mess with me and remind me I was a drug addict!” I barked. 

My knuckles turned white from squeezing them so tight. I wanted to say more but all I could get out were grunts and squeaks. I was too pissed off to get any words out or move, therefor I just grunted and breathed very heavily, staring her down. 

She placed her hands back in her lap, she was so calm even though a twitchy little freak like me Called her out. The fear on her face faded into a stern glare of determination. 

“ I will not stand for you yelling at me in my own office, so either get out or calm down” she insisted, still staring up at me. 

I yelled once again. I wanted to say so much more but I still could only yell and grunt. I stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind me. 

My anger soon faded into regret, then sadness. Tears streamed down my face. I wiped my hoodie across my cheeks to get ride of any trace that I had been crying. Nobody was in the hall and nobody should be anymore since the game is already over. Only athletes should be here and they would be downstairs. 

I dropped to my knees, pushing my hands against my temples, yelling out again, but i was more angry at myself then the nurse. 

“ what’s Wrong with me” I screamed, tears floading my eyes. 

The nurse was right about me being on drugs again though. I have no idea how she even knew I was on drugs in the first place, but I guess since she has known me since I was in elementary school, she would probably think I was a meth head due to all the twitching and being extremely skinny at the time. 

My phone buzed, ringing to a certain tune that I wasn’t very farmilar with since im not used to calls. I reach into my back pocket, lifting my self off the ground just enough to reach for it; the phone vibrating in my hand. The tone becomes less muffled once it escapes my pocket, screen flashing to the tone and vibration. Mom. My moms calling me? 

Immediately as I picked the call up all I heard was worry. I could sense the fear in the shakiness in her voice. 

“Where are you? It’s past nine and the game ended thirty minutes ago!” She questioned, emotions sprawled out like dropping papers. 

“I got sliced open on the bleachers and had to go to the nurse, I’m fine” I answered, bleak and almost sarcastic sounding. 

I could here her tapping on her phone from the other side, most likely telling whoever she sent to look for me off. 

Her voice appears once more, short and brief sentences break the silence as she finally speaks up again for the last time on this call. “I’m coming to get you if your not home in ten minutes “ she barked as she hung up abruptly. 

My hands dropped to my sides, sighing as my head fell weightlessly on my shoulders. My eyes traced the ceiling, preparing to get off the ground. I fixed my gaze back into the floor as I finally pulled myself from my shameful state in front of the nurses office, stuffing the phone back in my pockets. 

The left over grass on the soles of my shoes rubbed off on the floor as I approached the conveniently close exit. The doors stayed open until 9:30 so the players could leave. 

Pressing the cold metal button, I left the school and the embarrassment behind. The chill of the night caused the hair on my arms to stand up. I gripped myself right as I sped off down the road. 

The only light Illuminating the side walk was the street lights that’s dangled above me. 

My head darted back and forth, watching every turn and step I take, just Incase someone follows me. 

Houses left and right start to turn their lights off, cars still drive then streets, but not too many. 

My feet pounded down the road, counting the cracks in the concrete until I see my house. 

As I walk, I notice one house nearby, Stans. Stan lives a few houses down from me, yet I can still hear him and his friends every other night yelling at the top of their lungs. 

My worry is soon gone as I rush down the street to my house. 

The green paint sticking out almost as well as clydes house with all the lights and music coming from his house. My porch light was left on, waiting for my safe arrival, moths buzzed around the dimly lit outdoor light. As I come to a slowed pace, I realize that that was the only light on in the house. Did she go to sleep? 

I quickly dashed through the yard, kicking up grass with my feet, and launching for the door. I reach for the door knob and twist it to see that it was open. The warm inside of the house welcomed me, so did the kitchen light that I didn’t expect to see. 

I slowly step inside, kicking off my shoes to set with the others beside the door, treading carefully as to not wake anyone. 

I make three steps before being stopped by my mother, obviously upset. 

I reach my hand out for her as I pull the door closed behind me, “Mom, I’m so sorry for being out past curfe-“ I say, apologizing as best as I could be before I was cut off. 

“We have to talk, hon” she says, a soft sweetness to her voice was still present even in a saddened state. 

Losing all fear and replacing it with worry, I walk to the kitchen to meet with my mother. 

She steps back, going to sit at the table on the side of the kitchen. I follow her silently, not speaking a words as the transition from creaking wood to quiet till occurs. 

Placing my hand on the chair facing opposite her, I drag it out from under, as it made a horrible sound. I sat down In the chair crossing my arms on the table, waiting for her to speak. 

She mumbles at first, only small words escape her mouth, until she gains enough curate to face the sentence she’s about to say. 

“Your father wasn’t supposed to be allowed back, but since I am not allowed to have full custody of you, we have to have split custody, meaning he has visitation tomorrow” she forced the words out of her mouth as if every syllable was laced with shame. 

My eyes widened, mouth slightly ajar. I looked away from her as I tried to process what I heard. I turned back to face her, stop confused on what she had told me. 

“But he made a meth lab in the basement!” I shouted, practically spitting my words. 

I felt betrayed, I felt scared, and I felt confused. How could a meth head junkie be allowed back into my life as a guardian, legally! 

I shot up from the table, walking away as calmly as I possibly could without breaking something. I dragged my feet up the stairs as I approached my room to pass out away from all the stress. 

Oh, did I forget to introduce myself. Well my name is technically Tweek tweak now, I know, weird name, but my real names weird. I’m 16 and I work at tweak Bros coffee down the street from South Park high since this redneck town can’t afford a Starbucks. And I’m going to make it my main priority to become Craig’s and for him to become mine. 


	2. Chapter 2

Hi. I want to thank you for taking time to read this. anyway, this story has graphic depicts of violence, sexual content, drug use, obsessive behavior, adult language, and eating disorders. I have put a lot of effort into this story for about two years now and i want tore it with everyone, but also want you guys to be aware of it This story/book was originally an original story with my own characters, but i had to cram so i put my south park au together with this story. I am aware the characters, such as tweek for example, have huge differences (Tweek fucking skates for example) from the actual characters but that is just my interpretation and original characters mashed together. I hope you enjoy this story/fanfic as much as i do. 

\- Aiden/ creator


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